I repeat the process for the second mare. To read back over the process description, it seems complicated, however, I have repeatedly timed myself and when all things are as they should be, it is simple and harnessing one horse takes between one and two minutes.

With the next, older pair of mares, there is a slight deviation in routine. One mare's neck is relatively small for her bulk, and her head is quite large, with lots of width at the eyes. This means that, though she's perfectly willing to let me try, it is close to impossible to put the collar on over the head (whether rightside up or upside down). So for her, I unbuckle the collar at the top, unclip the sweat pad from one side and pull it out of the way. I then pass the collar up at the neck, bringing the pad over and into place before buckling the collar together. The remainder of the harnessing routine remains the same as with the previous team.

The third team takes a little longer this morning because I need to find a better fitting collar for the one horse. I didn't like the way it rolled up on his neck yesterday. So I try a couple of collars on him that have a different shape, though they are the same size. One has been stretched out wider and the other is a full-sweeney style specifically designed for a thick neck. I find the right collar, a good older one, with a thicker overall construction and it requires that I lengthen out the top hame strap. That done, I proceed with the harnessing until all eight head are outfitted.

Next I separate the difficult mare to a single stall before I take out the young mare team. I don't want to come back later to the barn and find her gelding teammate bunged up and something broken, all because she slipped once again into her 'get away from me!' attitude.

Though there is a time and place for a single stall, I like the open double tie stall. It gives me a great deal of convenience. For example, I can drive a harnessed team directly into the stall when returning from work. And I can bridle, rig the lines, set the check reins, and back the team out of the stall when it's time to go to work.

Whenever possible, I work my horses without halters. Many teamsters prefer to leave the halters on under the bridles. I think this must add some discomfort to the horse and so I take them off whenever feasible. Mares ready, we back up and swing into the barn lane and walk out towards the waiting mower.

I walk the right mare over the mower tongue and swing the pair into place. They are standing now, either side of the tongue, exactly where they need to be for hitching. I walk alongside the left mare and spread the two lines across her back where they will be easily reached if needed. Then I proceed to the front of the team and raise up the tongue and neckyoke (the neckyoke is secured to the end of the mower tongue). I snap the breaststrap/pole strap assemblies to the neck yoke and take one quick look over the horse's heads to see if everything is okay. Next I walk back around the left side, picking up the driving lines and, with them in hand, proceed to hook the trace chains to the single trees. All this while the horses are standing calm, quiet and attentive. (The 'attentive' is important because I have found the inattentive horse is the one likeliest to jump when surprised, shocked or spooked by some unexpected sound or occurrence.)

All hitched, I climb aboard the mower, gather up the slack in my lines and check the team's ears. I want them both listening to me. Usually, the little vibrations, as I gather the lines, will tell them something's coming or that I'm getting set to ask them to go. Feeling my preparations, through the lines, can on occasion cause the horses to second guess me, and make them want to start before I'm ready. Seems natural, good intelligent working partners sense you are ready to set out, why wait for a formal command, why not step right out? Nope, don't ever let that happen. They will remember it and take charge and that's bad news, that's the beginning of unraveled. It is my contention that we train our horses every moment we work with them. If we forfeit the opportunity to say, and thereby control, exactly when our horses step forward, we 'train' them to go whenever 'they' wish. A dangerous precedent. And one so easily avoided. It starts by always insisting 'we go when I say so and not before'.

My young mares stand quiet, attentive, assured, ready. I smile and feel my breath shorten deep in my chest. It's not apprehension or fear or any negative reaction, it's that tightening that comes as a prelude to the waves of unavoidable natural gratefulness. I am so fortunate in my partnership with these beautiful creatures.

I gaze around 'til my focus returns. I give the command, "okay ladies, let's do some mowing," chuckling to remember those hundreds of times I have admonished my workshop students to keep the verbal commands to their horses simple. And to always use the same sound or word for each desired action. Don't do as I do, do as I say. It's simple business and it's a complex craft.

We walk out to the hayfield and to that spot where, yesterday, I had tied a flag to the fence on my side. Also yesterday, I had paced off a new hay land marker across the field a quarter mile away, and propped a long stick in the cross fence. From the flag marker I am able to see across the relatively flat field to the stick. I swing the team in place with an effort to have my back be lined up, center, with the flag marker.

Sighting down the mower tongue, between my horses, I look over the 1/4 mile wide hayfield to the fenceline on the other side and line the marker stick up to a third point on the horizon, a tall tree. From experience I know that getting a straight first cut will depend on my keeping the distant stick and the far distant tree lined up and in my sight at all times. If I simply aim at the distant stick, my cut will wander.

Points spotted, I do a quick look over the team and lines, lower the cutter bar from the carrier rod and squirt oil over its length from the oil jug. Next I climb on the seat, lever the bar down to mowing position and kick back the pedal to put the mower in gear. Checking to see if ears are back, I speak to the team and we head out mowing. Smooth, quiet, certain. Everything is as it should be.

It's not always this way. I know first hand that mowing can be a frightening procedure for man and beast, especially if either or both are unaccustomed. I've been doing it for over thirty years now and this particular team has been at it for five years. We make it look simple and safe. And that is how it can be. But I always worry that first-timers will get the wrong idea from such a relaxed picture and jump in to certain hazard or disaster. The picture must be earned.